


Sex In The City

by tielan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, Kink, Masturbation, Porn, Sentient Atlantis, Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Tension, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 14:11:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the earliest days of the expedition, before things get complicated, there's speculation about whether or not the city really is sentient. John could tell them, but he soon realises that it's the argument that's important to most people - not the answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sex In The City

**Author's Note:**

> This started with an old kinkmeme prompt " _John wants Teyla but can't bring himself to make a move. Atlantis knows John wants Teyla and starts 'helping' him out... Hilarity ensues._ "

In the earliest days of the expedition, before things get complicated, there’s speculation about whether or not the city really is sentient.

John could tell them, but he soon realises that it’s the argument that’s important to most people - not the answer.

“That the city has a consciousness is not the same as it being sentient. A slug has consciousness after all, but one could never teach it to modify its behaviour.”

“One can train animals to behave in particular ways. Pigeons for instance.”

“True. But that’s a reward-punishment behaviour, as compared to behaving pre-emptively in order to please someone or something else. For instance, a kid can be taught not to touch a hot plate, but nobody teaches them to do things like pick Mom flowers.”

“People still pick flowers for their Mom? How old-fashioned.”

“It’s an example. Don’t make a mountain out of it.”

Whatever the arguments, John knows the city is aware of them. He’s not sure exactly what it is, but he can feel the city’s...contentment all around him. It knows they’re here. It’s...glad to be full of people again - at least, as much as a city can be ‘glad’.

And it likes him. It knows him.

\--

Halling says that Teyla has gone for a walk. “She wished to see the sunset, although she will be back in time for the evensong if you can wait.”

John could wait, but he’d like to see Teyla without her people hanging around.

He’s not sure what draws him towards the cross-corridor - maybe it’s the quality of the light in the corridors, or the fact that this section of the city is comfortably warm instead of still and cold. But he finds Teyla standing in the corridor in question, looking out over the water with the stained glass casting bright colours over her skin.

She glances over at him and smiles, warm and easy. The last light of the day carves her features into sharp edges - a distinctive face. “There are said to be oceans on Athos, so far to the north that my people have never travelled there. But I have never seen them.”

“You’ve been to other planets with oceans, though?”

“Yes. But I have never lived on one.” Looking back out along the water, she smiles, as though to herself. “It is a beautiful city.”

“Yeah.” John slides his hand down the frame of the window. “The Ancestors made her well.” The pleasure of the city is like a hum in his mind, the push of a dog’s head against his hand as he pets it.

When he turns, Teyla is looking at him in a way that makes him feel a little bit defensive and rather hot under the collar of his shirt.

“What?”

“You see the city as a living thing.”

He feels a little embarrassed, but there’s no contempt or amusement in her statement. He shrugs. “Yeah, well...it is.”

\--

The Wraith have come and gone, but the city still stands - thanks to Teyla’s gift.

John leans against the back of the shower cubicle with a slow exhalation of relief as the water pulses against his skin. It’s been an exhausting forty-eight hours, full of highs and lows, and he’s snatched scraps of sleep here and there, but that’s about as much as he’s been able to manage.

He feels oddly buzzed, though, his flesh tingling.

It’s not an unusual feeling - not after the kind of day he’s had. Looking death in the face, being reprieved, the feeling of relief and human contact.

That moment when Weir hugged him, he reacted instinctively - male to female. But it was when he looked into Teyla’s eyes after they’d realised the Wraith had fallen for Teyla’s projection that he’d felt the jolt all the way down to his balls.

Relief, that was all.

John slides his hand over his cock, stroking firmly, familiar motions, and the ache starts in his balls as his flesh responds. He knows how to get off quick and dirty, but he doesn’t want quick and dirty right now - he wants slow and sensuous - and, just once, to pretend that his hand isn’t his hand but someone else’s.

He’s not sure when he realises the wall is conforming to his back, or that there’s a ledge for his butt to rest upon - or when he feels the first gentle squeeze of something against his balls.

His head falls back against the wall as he imagines himself under Teyla, her thighs slender and strong over him, pushing him the way she does when they’re sparring - when he ends up sprawled on the floor and aching for the more he knows he shouldn’t want.

Somewhere along the way, his hands stop touching himself and he’s gripping the ledge under his butt, clawing for control as he thrusts recklessly into...into...into...

It’s a sheath of some kind, squeezing around him like a woman’s body, enveloping him from base to tip, tight and slick and heated.

John comes because he can’t bring himself to stop moving. It’s probably sick, doing this with what amounts to the city, but it feels so goddamned good...

And in his head, it’s Teyla riding him.

The sheath-thing, whatever it is, melts back into the wall when he’s done. John cleans himself up and falls into bed and silently wonders what else the city can do.

\--

John experiments with the shower cubicle a few times. Some of the things it can do are...interesting. Not what John expected, although he’s got no complaints. He opts for more familiar scenarios, though, and the city obliges - to the point where, during a mission where his team are squeezing into a bolthole, John finds himself spooned up against Teyla’s back and realises that the nebulous ‘form’ the city makes for him during those shower sessions is not quite as nebulous as he thought.

Then he nearly jumps Teyla while under the Iratus influence. And now he knows the feel of her mouth under his, of her body against his, of her hands on his chest...

After that, he stops using the city as his personal sex toy and goes back to using his hand.

It’s not as much as he’d like, but it’s what he can have and that’ll have to be enough.

Time passes. He finds a little relief with Teer - at least she’s safe, because he has nothing to offer her, and all she wants from him is sex. There’s the four months on Earth, when he goes home with a woman he picks up at a bar, and then sneaks out on her in the dark, arriving back at the base at 0400 hours.

Sex is easy.

A relationship is difficult - not so much because the woman he wants is real and complicated and individual and has her expectations, but because John’s damaged and broken and all kinds of screwed up.

And because Teyla doesn’t want him like that - a fact which is made painfully clear when it comes out that she’s pregnant to one of her own people.

John tries to hate her, but he can’t. Maybe he could if her people weren’t missing, if he was watching Teyla look at another man with smiling eyes, if he had to listen to their plans for the future, stand on the outside looking in.

Teyla needs him, as a friend and a team-mate and someone to support her.

It’s not what he wants, but it’s what he’s given, and it _will_ be enough.

And then Teyla goes missing and John’s world begins bleeding as though from a gut wound.

\--

The city is old and empty around him. Atlantis has outlasted the humans who once walked her halls and she barely rouses to John’s presence.

Lights come on as he walks down the corridor, then shut off as he passes, the last fading effort of the city.

As John settles into the stasis chamber, he takes a moment to feel the city, the weary pleasure it takes in his presence. It’s been a long time since she had anyone - human or otherwise - walk her halls. And when the stasis overtakes him John has the lingering feeling that he’s cradled in the arms of his city.

\--

There’s a seat in the shower cubicle when he gets back to his rooms, having promised Keller he’ll be good and quiet, get a wash and go to bed. It’s exactly the right height for him, and he relaxes into it with more than a little relief.

His side aches still, bruised flesh tender after being spiked in Michael’s hideaway.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there with the water pouring over him, just relaxing in the steamy heat on the ledge the city’s made for him to sit on in his shower cubicle.

Teyla’s back home and safe. They found her - and her people. And she’s delivered her son safely - even named him after John.

It’s not what he wants, but it’s what he has, and in this moment of relief, it’s enough.

John thinks of candlelight and wine and Teyla telling him she knew he would come for her, and puts that dream away.

It has to be enough.

\--

The hum of adrenaline is still buzzing in John’s veins when he steps inside his room and heads for the closet.

It takes him a moment to realise the lights haven’t gone on, and he frowns and glances up at the light fittings. If the lights don’t come on at first - and they usually do - all it usually takes is a moment’s concentration. Not tonight.

His first thought is that Michael’s somehow survived a two hundred yard fall into chilly waters, gotten himself out, and is back haunting them again. He reaches for his earpiece to contact Teyla and warn her...

Then he thinks to try the manual switch.

Light floods the room. John shakes his head, exhales sharply, and starts back across the room.

The lights switch off again.

He frowns up at the ceiling. “What’s going on?” He doesn’t usually talk to the city - he feels like an idiot conversing with empty space, Rodney would never let him live it down if he found out, and he’s not sure he needs to give Teyla and Ronon more reasons to look sideways at him.

John goes back to the manual switch and turns them on. A moment later, they switch off again.

“What are you doing?”

No answer comes. Of course. Because it’s a city - it can’t speak.

In spite of the darkness - it’s not total, there’s still the glow from the external city - John heads for the closet again. He’ll get some running gear together and go for a jog. If Ronon was up, he’d ask if the big guy wanted to go for a run with him, but he’s not, so it’s just John and the city.

And the city seems to be in a bad mood.

As he moves through the city on his jog, doors open just far enough for John to get through, or open at the last minute. They don’t slam shut on him at least, but there’s definitely something going on with the city.

He doesn’t encounter many other people out and about, but when he checks with the two he sees in the hallways, they shake their heads and say no, they’ve noticed nothing unusual about the city.

Then one of the doors refuses to open for him. John frowns and calls in with the control room. “Chuck? It’s Sheppard.”

“Sir? Is everything all right?”

“I was just going to ask you. I’m down on the mess hall level, over by the south-west pier, and I’ve got a set of closed doors that aren’t opening for me. Can you check the city systems...?”

“Checking now, sir.” There’s a moment during which John imagines the tapping of keys. “Nope. Nothing. Are you sure...?”

John’s sure it’s not opening for him. He’s even more sure after the door slides open and a pair of marines come through, nodding at him as they pass.

The door slides shut behind them. “Never mind, Chuck,” John says and turns his earpiece off.

He waits until he’s sure the marines are gone, keeping his eye on the offending door. Then he speaks very quietly. “Okay. You don’t want me to go that way. So, how about giving me a hint which way you _do_ want me to go?”

The lights dim a little in his section and brighten slightly further along. John rolls his eyes and jogs that way, and the doors that lead off into a side corridor open wide for him as the side corridor brightens.

“I really dislike being herded,” John tells the city, then feels like an idiot and hopes that nobody’s around to hear.

The corridors are familiar - ones he’s run down with Ronon before - and he soon realises where the city’s taking him. Living quarters. Specifically, the block of living quarters where Teyla’s got her rooms.

John stops in front of her double-doors and gives the ceiling another look. “Really?”

In answer, the lights down the corridor in each direction dim, leaving John standing more or less in a spotlight he’d really rather not be in.

One hand lifts to press the bell, and the doors pop open a crack.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mutters. This is more than a little creepy. Atlantis has never taken this kind of action before - opening and closing doors, blocking off passageways and generally behaving as though it’s sentient and awake, instead of constantly drowsing off. Although there was the time the Genii invaded the city and John hunted them down...

Is there a threat to Atlantis? Is that why he’s here? Fear jolts through him and he shoves open the door. “Teyla?”

There’s no sound from inside. And John’s breath hitches. Is she in trouble? Is that why the city’s brought him over here?

He walks in, barely noticing as the doors close behind him. Torren’s cradle is by the bed, and...John glances to the side...the kid’s asleep in it. The sudden horrible clutch in his belly has him striding to hover over the cradle--

The blanket rises, and Torren shifts.

Now it’s John’s turn to hold his breath.

There’s a murmur, a stretch, and then Torren settles back down, his breathing rhythmic and easy..

A muffled noise comes from the bathroom at the other end of the quarters, and John turns on his heel, alarmed. He crosses the room and pushes open the bathroom door, not even questioning that it popped open with his touch.

And stops.

The wreathing steam doesn’t hide anything, and the glass door of the shower cubicle shows Teyla quite clearly - every inch, every curve, every drop of water - and the protuberance extending from the wall. The one she’s in the middle of riding.

John fumbles for the door, but he made the mistake of stepping into the small space and it’s closed behind him. Even as he fumbles for the door, he already knows its not going to open. His cheeks are hot, and, God, so is his cock, because Teyla’s noticed his entrance and is staring at him with one part confusion, one part alarm, and one part dazed lust.

She has to stop looking at him like that or he’s going to jump her.

“John? What is it?”

“Hey, Teyla. I...” He gropes at the door handle one more time then gives up. The city brought him here, it’s not going to just let him walk away. “I thought you were in trouble.”

Teyla’s brows arch, that delicate query that can be polite or sardonic. There’s a flush across her cheeks, but she doesn’t drop her gaze. “As you can see, I am not.”

Yeah, John can definitely see that. He’s also finding that he can’t look away.

She sounds breathless - but then, she should be, the way she was riding that thing...

“The city does that for you, too?” He indicates the dildo - that’s basically what it is, right?

Her glance at the protuberance is almost surprised, like she forgot what she was doing. “Clearly.” Teyla pushes open the cubicle door and steps out, and John’s belly coils and his balls ache. His cock reacts to what he’s seeing, even if his brain knows better.

Teyla reaches for a towel and wraps it about herself - no hurry, no rush. She’s embarrassed, but she’s not going to behave like she’s ashamed. “So, I am not in trouble, and you are in my bathroom.”

“I was out for a jog,” he tells her. “After what happened earlier tonight. And then the city... It brought me here. Doors and lights and things. I don’t know why...”

In the silence after he trails off, they both hear the lock click, like a snicker of laughter.

“I see.”

With a sigh, Teyla unwraps the towel again, hanging it back on the railing. And John gapes as she crosses the short distance between them, lifts her hands to his face, and draws his mouth down to hers.

Softness on his lips. Sweetness on his tongue. Sleek skin under his hands.

John lets himself lean in, waiting to be pushed away, waiting for her to step back and say that it was a mistake, waiting for the alien possession, or the revelation of the crisis that can only be solved by Teyla kissing him...

It doesn’t come.

Teyla’s kisses swallow him whole, long and slow and deep. Teyla’s mouth moves under his like the shift and shudder of continents - inexorable. Teyla’s hand brushes his trousers and takes him in a firm grip.

John moans into her mouth, his hands not daring to move beyond the warm muscle of her shoulders.

She draws back a little - enough so he can see her eyes.

“You may tell me to stop at any time.”

“Stop?” John shivers and swallows, scrabbling for the remnants of control. The edginess he was fighting earlier...well, sex would be a way to get that out, just as much as running was supposed to. “I don’t... Do you want to stop?”

Teyla’s fingers curl around him and tug - lightly, of course, but still with enough firmness to send a jolt down his spine and up into his balls. He could drown in her eyes - in the heated intensity of her gaze. “I want you to touch me.”

Her gaze flickers down, and so does John’s. After a moment, he lets his hands stroke down to her breasts, and aches when she arches into his touch. John takes her mouth as her lips part, sliding into the taste of her, the feel of her against him.

He wants to savour this - heat and wet and the feel of Teyla pressing him back against the door, working him through his pants as he nips and sucks and strokes and cups. And he wants to make this last - which it’s not going to if her hand keeps going at him like that.

So he pushes her back a little, and starts to tug off his shirt. Teyla’s hands close over his, and her fingertips graze his skin as she helps draw it off.

He’s got it just off his head, still tangled around his wrists, when she leans in and strokes her tongue from his belly button up to his throat. Her breasts trail twin caresses up his chest. John manages to get at least one hand out of the t-shirt before Teyla takes his mouth in her own so he can cup her head.

John drags himself away from her mouth, trailing kisses across her jaw and down her throat. She hums when his hands cup her, then eyes him when he licks her left nipple just once. “If you stop,” she threatens, but leaves the punishment unsaid.

A smile twitches his lips, as John knees between her legs. “You wanted me to touch you.”

“I have not yet told you that you may stop.”

He licks her nipple again, slowly, so he can savour the texture, the way she inhales. “So I’ll just carry on, then?”

“Please.”

Teyla’s hand combs through his hair as he licks and suckles and explores her reactions, then flexes as he drifts lower.

He strokes his tongue along the curve of her belly and over her hipbone, his thumbs sliding up her thighs to part her flesh. She makes a little gasping sound when he slides his tongue from swollen cleft to hooded tip, and sighs as his mouth closes about her clit.

Then John starts working her in earnest.

Licks to begin with, soft strokes of his tongue gradually growing more insistent as he traces the shape of her, tiny and sensitive and deliciously hot. Then harder when her hands clench in his hair and she tilts her hips for  a better angle.

He drives Teyla up and over the edge of pleasure, into ecstasy, and she shivers and shudders and cries out his name, while John kneels between her thighs savours the pleasure of having satisfied her.

The grip on his head grows heavy, like she can’t quite keep herself upright. John makes sure to keep a good grip on her as he rises, easing her into his arms as he leans back against the door and hopes it stays closed. She nestles into his arms, panting, her cheek rubbing against his throat as she relaxes against John.

“Hey.” She feels so good against him. Relaxed and languid, soft skin pressing against him. He rubs his cheek against the wet press of her hair. “Did I break you?”

“Perhaps a little.” Teyla turns a little so she tucks more firmly under his arm, and her hand skims down his front and undoes his trousers. “Will you let me return the favour?”

He thinks about Teyla kneeling in front of him, her head bent over him, her lips wrapped around him, and he’s not sure he could stay standing for it.

Slight movement in the shower cubicle catches his attention. Out from the wall, a ledge is slowly becoming a seat.

“I think the city has it’s own ideas,” he murmurs, and Teyla looks from the seat to him.

“So I see.” She wraps her fingers around his cock, stroking thoughtfully. “Since it seems to have gone to the trouble of locking us in here, perhaps we should oblige it?”

John’s not comfortable with the idea of the city playing voyeur, but he’s more than happy to oblige Teyla.

“Has the city done this for you before?” He eases himself down on the ‘seat’ which is at just the right height for him, and seems to sink into it until he’s just comfortable. If he thinks about it, it’s more than a little freaky - but he’s not thinking at this moment - not with Teyla climbing onto him, her knees resting either side of her thighs as his hands slide around her waist and down to her butt, pulling her close.

“The seat ledge?” Dark eyes meet his gaze. “Or the dildo?”

“Uh, both?”

“The seat ledge - sometimes, after a mission, when I have been too tired to stand. The dildo...” Her fingers feather down the shaft of his erection, and John nearly arches into her touch - so tauntingly delicate. “Now and then. When I desire release.”

He takes her mouth in his own and drinks deeply, savouring the sweetness of her as he slides his hands up and down her skin, making her shiver with his touch.

When they come up for air, the smile on her face is both tender and terrible, and John catches his breath, then groans when Teyla settles herself on him with exquisite slowness.

“All settled?”

The glitter in her eyes gives him a moment’s breathless pause before she shifts a little, almost thoughtfully. “Almost.”

John’s grip tightens on her hips as she shifts and adjusts, clenching around him, all hot and silky-wet. “You’re killing me, Teyla.”

“I know.”

He gapes at the impish smile on her face, then yelps as she thrusts against him - pure, heated pleasure.

Teyla rides him with mischievous abandon, a smile teasing her lips as she rides him the way she was riding the wall-dildo before - like she’s got places to go and things  to do - and one of them is John and he’s getting done real fast.

“You do this often?” He gasps between thrusts, getting close, trying to put words together in coherent sentences. It’s an odd time to talk, but John doesn’t want to be just the sex object - the cock she’s riding to reach orgasm. And he knows that Teyla wouldn’t, but he wants to be sure. “You know, I’d... If you’re ever...in need of a release...in future...” He can’t keep going - he needs to focus on holding off until...until she... And she’s close. He can feel her clenching around him, less conscious, more reactive.

“You would oblige me, John?”

“Yeah,” he husks, cupping her breasts as she shivers, nipping her throat as he jerks his hips in tiny circles under her. “Yeah, I would.”

She bends her head so her cheek brushes his and her lips caress his earlobe. “Then do not hold back on me.”

And she pushes him back, a good hard shove that raps his head on the wall and makes everything seem that much sharper and more _now_ and begins riding him in earnest. John hopes it’s in earnest, because if not, he’s not going to survive this.

Above him, Teyla’s expression rises, fierce and determined, and John fixes the sight of her now in his mind as he strains up against her, right up against the knife-edge of pleasure.

John’s body shivers as he spills into her, his hips still moving in tiny thrusts, his hands flexing on her hips, on her waist, on her breast. And Teyla arches, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as pleasure takes her, too.

Boneless sprawls after sex are better in bed from John’s memory, but sprawling in the shower cubicle isn’t bad. Especially when the city turns the spray on to wash over them.

He’d like to do this again - the sex, of course, but more the lying around sprawled on each other. The problem is the same thing that’s held him back for the last five years - how to say it? Should he even say it? And does she really want him, or was he just convenient for her purposes and kind of forced on her by the city?

Teyla takes the need for conversation out of his hands. “I can see why you might think the city was a living thing.”

“I’m worried if it does this on automatic.”

“So you are not in the habit of walking into people’s quarters and having sex with them, then?”

“I’d be having a lot more sex if I was...” John trails off, and his hand brushes over her shoulder. “Teyla...”

“I think this is a conversation better held clothed,” Teyla says, easing herself off. “John!”

His name is muffled as he wraps a hand around the back of her head and brings her mouth to his, fear making him bold. And Teyla doesn’t pull away - but she doesn’t submit either. Her lips moves against his, taking control, nipping him hard. And John lets her take the reins, giving in to her demands until she lifts her face from his and tilts her head to one side.

“A conversation,” she says, although she’s smiling. “Clothed.”

Which would be fine, only John’s clothes are sodden, dropped on the floor in their haste. He wrings his clothing out while Teyla tucks her towel end in and digs out another one for him.

It’s not a regular size towel - John’s not even sure it’s a bath towel, although it might be a hand towel. He finds himself drying himself off and wrapping it around his waist, holding the edges together while Teyla shoots him a smirking look over her shoulder before going in to check on Torren.

“He was sleeping when I came in,” John offers. “I guess it wore him out?”

“Eventually,” Teyla murmurs before she turns. “Do I wish to know why the city brought you here?”

“Do I need to know why you were fucking the wall?”

Her mouth quirks a little and she looks away - at the bed - then back to John, brows arched. “Do you stay the night, or do you prefer your own bed?”

The question throws him for a loop. He’s being asked to stay?

“I’d rather not walk through the corridors like this.”

Teyla looks him over, the smile on her lips blossoming into wicked amusement. “I am sure there would be no protest from some. But...I would not put you through that.”

“Thanks.” John pauses, thinking he should make sure he’s got it right before he climbs in. He could screw this up so easily... “So, I can stay?”

The response he gets is a roll of the eyes before Teyla drops the towel and climbs into her bed.

John figures that counts as an invitation.

He eases himself under the sheets, hesitating again before she turns to him and snuggles in close, one leg sliding over his as she tucks herself up against him, her arm propping up her head.

“John. I was fucking the wall because I did not think that there was anyone who would oblige me otherwise.” The fingers of her free hand stroke his beard-stubble. “Now that I know there is...”

“I think the city brought me here because it knew I wanted to be here. And I didn’t... I couldn’t...”

He leans into her touch and hopes she understands what he’s trying to say - what he can’t voice, even here, in her bed, in private. “Ah.” And she takes up his hand and brings it to her mouth, and kisses the palm. “I do not mind being your refuge, John, should you need one.”

“I think you already might be.”

Teyla kisses his palm again, and he brushes her cheek with his fingertips and leans over to kiss her. Mouths meld and cling, and his body has just begun to stir when Teyla murmurs, “Do you think it will now leave us alone?”

John glances up at the recalcitrant ceiling. “I don’t know. Guess we’ll just have to find out.”

Atlantis doesn’t interrupt them.


End file.
